


Official Resident

by EonAO3



Series: Picture Perfect [6]
Category: Sebastian Stan - Fandom
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Love Stories, Romance, Sebastian Stan fandom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:26:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6702871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EonAO3/pseuds/EonAO3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sidelined with the flu, you need two things to get you through: a good NYC doctor and your thoughtful financé, Sebastian Stan. ...and maybe a little chicken soup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Official Resident

Sitting on the couch, you were balled up in the corner. Feet tucked in and knees tipped into the arm of the couch, you rested your head against your palm while you scrolled through the search results on your tablet. Across the room, you heard the scrape of a key in the door and looked up, smiling when Sebastian sided through the doorway and pushed it closed with his elbow. Beau, the grey and white pup you guys had adopted for your birthday last year, slid to a stop on the hardwood floors, just an inch or so from slamming nose first into Sebastian's leg. The year and a half old dog was big on heart, but small on grace. Sebastian reached down blindly to rub Beau's head and turned his attention up from the mail in his hand to notice you on the couch and smile in return.

"Hey, doll," he said, stepping around the wiggling dog and walking over to plant a kiss on top of your head. Sebastian held up the plastic shopping bag hanging from his wrist on his way to the kitchen. "I brought you some soup. You feeling any better?"

"Meh," you shrugged, going back to your internet search. 

"You think you need a doctor?" Sebastian asked, coming back from the kitchen to hang his jacket by the door. Beau excitedly shadowed him back and forth as he went through the apartment.

"I'm looking for one now," you said, not looking up from the page you were reading.

You had flown home from an audition in LA the night before and woken up with what you'd hoped was just a headache from hell, until the runny nose and sore throat started. By lunch, you had chills that you suspected were from a low grade fever you were too unmotivated to check with the thermometer. Sebastian had left for the afternoon for a meeting with his manager and was less than thrilled to hear you'd developed new symptoms when he called to say he was on the way home.

"You should just go to my guy," he suggested, bending down to tussle Beau's head in his hands. 

"Yeah yeah. What kind of soup?" you asked.

"Chicken noodle," he said, straightening up again, "from the deli."

Your face lit up, eyes flitting up to meet his with a suspicious squint. "Which deli?"

His face pinched with insult and his head ticked back. "From Katz's, of course," he scoffed and you laughed.

"Did you really go over there just to get me soup?" you asked, dabbing a tissue at your tender nose.

"Don't flatter yourself," he said going back into the kitchen. Beau was unprepared and scrambled after him, stuck in a cartoon like state for a moment, fumbling for traction. Sebastian spoke up so you could hear him after he rounded the corner. "It was on the way home...sorta. You want part 'a my sandwich? I got you some latkes, but I got a Reuben and some fries for me."

"No, thanks," you called back. You smiled to yourself, knowing that Katz's wasn't even 'sorta' on his way home today. "That'll be plenty."

A couple minutes later, Sebastian returned with a bowl of soup and your latkes and apple sauce on a plate. He asked if you needed something else to drink, besides the water on the end table next you, and you shook your head, thanking him for your hand delivered dinner. Beau lazily climbed up onto the couch to lie down and drape his neck over your feet. Sebastian snorted at Beau and left to get his own food. When he came back in, he tried once, and failed, to shoo the dog from the couch and took a seat on the other end of the couch instead of near you. Opting to eat out of the takeout box, Sebastian slumped comfortably into his seat and kicked a foot up onto the coffee table.

"Get your shoe off the table," you gently scolded him, before a spoonful of soup.

Sebastian tutted, dropping his foot heavily to the floor. "Yes, mom," he grumbled.

You slipped a leg out from under Beau, with only a quick groan of complaint from the spoiled dog, and nudged Sebastian's hip with your foot, unable to get at his ass. He laughed around a mouthful of his toasted pastrami sandwich. The screen dimmed and locked on your iPad while you ate. Sebastian inclined his head toward the device, asking if you found a doctor, as he chewed.

You shrugged, fishing your spoon in your soup for a piece of carrot. "I don't know. There's so many...I swear, it'd be easier to just fly back to LA to see my regular doctor."

"That's ridiculous," he said. "Why don't you just go see my guy?" Sebastian shrugged. "You don't like him, keep shopping around after you feel better."

"Well, if I'm gonna be living in New York, I'll need more than your guy," you pointed out, ahead of a small sniffle.

Sebastian grimaced. "What d'ya mean, _if_ you're gonna be living here? You're here...In fact, you said 'yes'. You're stuck here and you're gonna like it," he insisted, popping a fry into his mouth.

You giggled and shook your head. It had been about a year since you'd moved into Sebastian's Tribeca apartment. Almost a year and you'd spent so much time traveling for work and to and from LA, for auditions and other business, that you still really didn't think you qualified as a New Yorker. But Sebastian had proposed just before last Christmas, last fall you adopted a pit bull/labrador mix puppy together, you'd mostly figured out how to navigate the subways to get around the island, and your personal touches were dotted throughout the apartment. It was a good start. Even if you weren't feeling fluish, picking a doctor was definitely a solid step to saying you were an official resident of the city.

"What do you mean you'll need more than my guy?" he asked.

"Well, obviously, I need to pick a primary care physician," you explained, "but I'll also need a gyno for the lady bits."

Sebastian stopped chewing, one corner of his mouth tugging back into an odd sneer of confusion and disgust and casting a side eye look your way that said he didn't want to know. You took a slow bite of a latke, staring back at him with a casual shrug. He looked away, shaking his head and going back to chewing his food. 

"What?" you asked and he shook his head, still chewing. "Gotta take care of the ol' hoo-ha." He shook his head again. "Make sure the punani-"

"Okay," he barked, swallowing the food in his mouth and reaching for the bottle of cola he brought out with his sandwich. "I get it."

It was quiet for a minute, while you dipped and ate your latke. You looked at Sebastian from the side of your eye to see him biting into his Reuben again. You took up your soup, keeping an eye on him as you swirled your spoon around in the bowl. Sebastian dangled half of a fry in front of Beau's snout and chuckled to himself at the dog smacking his lips as he chewed his scrap. Maybe feeling your gaze on him, Sebastian looked over again.

"Va-gi-na," you enunciated, purposefully slow and with an intensely straight face.

Sebastian's mouth gaped, mid-chew as he rolled his eyes. "Dammit, [y/n]," he complained, crushing his eyes closed and lolling his head away from you.

"What?" you laughed. "Every girl's got one."

"Yes, I know," he agreed, sarcastically. "And, believe me, I'm a big fan. But the last thing I'm interested in thinking about over my dinner is some guy poking around..." He gestured broadly toward your gut. "your...lady bits. Jesus."

"Fine," you shrugged, unable to help a mischievous chuckle as you sniffed and went back to your soup. 

Sebastian leaned forward, grabbing a fresh tissue from the box on the coffee table. He handed it to you, with a small frown when he saw you sniffle again. After a quiet moment, Sebastian circled around to the original point of the conversation.

"You want the number for my doctor, or not?" he asked, reaching over the dog to scratch a finger softly on your leg for your attention.

"Sure," you smiled.


End file.
